Biminey’s Interlude -A knocking noise, insistent and unrelenting, woke Biminey from a sound sleep. The shaft of light beaming through the closed shutters of the tavern room denoted it was well past morning. He’d been up most of the night deciphering scrolls that Keri, the cute little halfling friend of Dra’kin’s girl had recovered for him from the hidden archives under the temple of Eris. Too many of the scrolls defied him, written in ancient sigils, none of which bore any resemblance to the the characters he’d come to associate with the ancient city of Darkmith.
“By all the gods, WHAT?!” he yelled, swinging his feet off the bed onto the rough hewn planks of the floor.
“Good, you’re there. I need to speak with you.” came a voice from the other side of the door.
Mind still a little befuddled by sleep, it took the lanky artificer a few moments to register the voice, then his eyes widened as he recognized the harsh gutturals of Merkin, one of the highest ranking priests of Eris, a wolfkin like his friend Torel. He whipped his head around, scrolls littered the small table in the room, all bearing the sign of Eris.
“Just a minute! Be right there! Hold on!” he said, louder than was truly necessary and frantically started curling the scrolls up and tossing them into the small leather backpacks that Keri had dropped them off in.
Taking a last wild look around the room he kicked the packs under the bed then went to the door. Opening it revealed the rough hewn angular features of the priest, “Yes? What?”
The priest pushed past him into the room, glancing around, seeming to note everything in the room in a glance and somehow Biminey knew he’d be able to recall the details precisely a year later. The priest turned on him, the saffron trimmed white robes swirling with the force of his movement.
‘Oh shit, busted.’ Biminey thought and started to inch toward the spear leaning next to the door, its tip made of an opalescent jagged shard of shell.
Merkin pulled the single stool out from under the table and sat. On the floor under the table, in the shadows cast by the light shining on it Biminey spotted a scroll that must have fallen and rolled up against the wall. He closed the door to the room, ending up next to the spear as if by chance.
“So, what did you say you needed?” Biminey asked, eyes flicking away from the damning scroll.
“I read your manuscript this morning. Very intriguing I must say, you have a concise way of writing that gets the point across with good detail. Have you ever considered becoming a follower of Eris? Your penmanship puts many of our journeymen scribes to shame in their neatness and uniformity.”
“Uh no, I haven’t. I’m not much of a collector of knowledge, no offense, I like putting it to use. I’m currently working on something you might find useful. I had an idea for a set of glasses that would allow one to read a language the person didn’t know. I think if I…”
“Right right, I’m sure that will be wonderful.” interrupted the priest. “Your words of the crypt, possibly the crypt of Prince Larkson I especially found intriguing. You mentioned the runes and sigils inscribed, how did you put it, ‘banded by metal that showed no signs of aging or tarnish, possibly a formula of steel with some exotics infused in it. The metal was covered over 80% of its surface with the same 27 sigils, repeating in different patterns. Although I didn’t see all sides the patterns seemed to comprise of three patterns that were then comprised of 3 larger patterns. I surmise that…’ well you’re familiar with what you wrote, I needn’t repeat it I’m sure. Your notes are quite at odds with your conversational patterns which I found refreshing by the way.”
“Well yeah, my life depends on me being able to make precision notes and diagrams for my craft. Sloppy and lack of detail means waking up explaining to the gods why I managed to make a construct that burrowed its way up my ass to my heart while I was sleeping.”
“Of course. Anyway, the reason I’m here, do you think you could reproduce the inscriptions in the metal?”
“Well yeah, my life depends on me being able to make precision notes and diagrams for my craft. Sloppy and lack of detail means waking up explaining to the gods why I managed to make a construct that burrowed its way up my ass to my heart while I was sleeping.”
“Of course. Anyway, the reason I’m here, do you think you could reproduce the inscriptions in the metal?”
“Not with accuracy, I only viewed two sides of the crypt and only for a few brief moments. We were… interrupted and had to leave. That’s flowery talk for a 100 nasty assed things with teeth and claws showed up and we felt we’d be better off hauling ass out of there.”
“Right right, it was in your notes. By the way, no should I tell him, it’s in the proscribed knowledge, no I see no harm in it. Those creatures were undoubtedly the Prince’s royal bodyguards, holy warriors and casters, sworn to protect the prince even unto death. When they failed in their duty, they were cursed along with the city by the Prince’s death into guarding his body until the city was no more. The body of the prince, kept safe in that tomb from ruin and the tomb kept safe by the guardians is what keeps the curse on the city in stasis and thus keeps those creatures warded… but that’s enough, some information is best not spread or discussed.”
“Ummm, right.”
“So you’re okay then with me performing a Ritual of Remembrance on you? It would take only a few hours of your time and would allow you to retrieve what you saw that day with utmost clarity. I would like scribes available to draw what you saw that day. Our knowledge of the last days of Darkmith is so little and anything you can do to enlarge that store of knowledge would find us very generous. Larkson’s last resting place is something we know so little of.” The priest’s eyes bore into those of Biminey, a raw naked yearning in them visible for a moment.
“How generous? And I’m leaving today for a few days, on business for the Council.”
The priest produced a bag from his sleeve and dropped it on the table. “That’s a hundred gold, just for considering the idea. If you agree, there will be another nine just like it.”
“I’d rather have access to the old knowledge of Darkmith. I merely want to see maps of the city, out of curiosity so I can see where we might have traveled through it.”
“No! Such knowledge is forbidden, that city still holds potent evils, riders of chaos that can enter the body and mind, subsume them and spread their chaos to others. No, you will have to be content with monetary gain.”
“I see no harm in maps…”
“I said no, end of discussion!” Merkin slammed one hand down on the table, the scroll underneath rolling slightly forward from the force of the man’s blow.
“Right right right. Okay, tell you what, I’ll take your gold and consider your offer. When we get back, I’ll have an answer for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do have to get ready, I’ll be in touch when I get back.”
Biminey led the priest to the door, careful to keep his body between the man and the table and the scroll underneath.
Merkin turned at the doorway, his yellow tinged eyes blinking as the artificer took a step forward to fill the doorway. “I expect to hear from you in a few days then,” he said with a slight bow of he head, “Until then, may the fruit of knowledge fall in plenty upon you.”
Biminey closed the door and quietly barred it again. With a snort he muttered, “Yeah except what you don’t want me to have. What exactly are you hiding in those vaults of yours I wonder….”
Checking the angle of the sun he saw he had another hour or so before they were to meet to pick up horses and start their trek up river to investigate the bandits. Getting out quill and ink and fresh paper, he determined to spend the time trying to decipher how he could entwine constructs into glass such that they could see a letter on one side and display an image known to the wearer on the other.
Chewing on the end of the quill he sat deep in thought, idly rolling the stolen scroll on the floor with one foot.
“Right right, it was in your notes. By the way, no should I tell him, it’s in the proscribed knowledge, no I see no harm in it. Those creatures were undoubtedly the Prince’s royal bodyguards, holy warriors and casters, sworn to protect the prince even unto death. When they failed in their duty, they were cursed along with the city by the Prince’s death into guarding his body until the city was no more. The body of the prince, kept safe in that tomb from ruin and the tomb kept safe by the guardians is what keeps the curse on the city in stasis and thus keeps those creatures warded… but that’s enough, some information is best not spread or discussed.”
“Ummm, right.”
“So you’re okay then with me performing a Ritual of Remembrance on you? It would take only a few hours of your time and would allow you to retrieve what you saw that day with utmost clarity. I would like scribes available to draw what you saw that day. Our knowledge of the last days of Darkmith is so little and anything you can do to enlarge that store of knowledge would find us very generous. Larkson’s last resting place is something we know so little of.” The priest’s eyes bore into those of Biminey, a raw naked yearning in them visible for a moment.
“How generous? And I’m leaving today for a few days, on business for the Council.”
The priest produced a bag from his sleeve and dropped it on the table. “That’s a hundred gold, just for considering the idea. If you agree, there will be another nine just like it.”
“I’d rather have access to the old knowledge of Darkmith. I merely want to see maps of the city, out of curiosity so I can see where we might have traveled through it.”
“No! Such knowledge is forbidden, that city still holds potent evils, riders of chaos that can enter the body and mind, subsume them and spread their chaos to others. No, you will have to be content with monetary gain.”
“I see no harm in maps…”
“I said no, end of discussion!” Merkin slammed one hand down on the table, the scroll underneath rolling slightly forward from the force of the man’s blow.
“Right right right. Okay, tell you what, I’ll take your gold and consider your offer. When we get back, I’ll have an answer for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do have to get ready, I’ll be in touch when I get back.”
Biminey led the priest to the door, careful to keep his body between the man and the table and the scroll underneath.
Merkin turned at the doorway, his yellow tinged eyes blinking as the artificer took a step forward to fill the doorway. “I expect to hear from you in a few days then,” he said with a slight bow of he head, “Until then, may the fruit of knowledge fall in plenty upon you.”
Biminey closed the door and quietly barred it again. With a snort he muttered, “Yeah except what you don’t want me to have. What exactly are you hiding in those vaults of yours I wonder….”
Checking the angle of the sun he saw he had another hour or so before they were to meet to pick up horses and start their trek up river to investigate the bandits. Getting out quill and ink and fresh paper, he determined to spend the time trying to decipher how he could entwine constructs into glass such that they could see a letter on one side and display an image known to the wearer on the other.
Chewing on the end of the quill he sat deep in thought, idly rolling the stolen scroll on the floor with one foot.
